


Falling in Place

by adrisbee



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Pregnancy, Weddings, and a turkey in a jacuzzi, confusing interpersonal relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:39:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6249259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrisbee/pseuds/adrisbee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're eight months pregnant and attending a week-long wedding extravaganza for the sister of your closest friend. As your life continues to move forward, how will you reconcile with the past?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling in Place

**Author's Note:**

> I want to give a huge shout-out to all the wonderful people who helped me with editing! You're amazing and I love you all. All references were placed lovingly.

_Accepting this invitation was a mistake_ , you sigh, rocking back and forth on your swollen feet as you stand in your nicest pair of flats on the hardwood floors of the Valmont Estate. Intricate wood paneling covers the walls, no doubt to emulate the manors of Europe, with family portraits and formal photographs sprinkled across them to give a sense of old world prestige. Your nose crinkles at the aesthetic as a furrow settles neatly into the familiar crease in your brow. The entire place reeks of pomposity.

As you stand in the atrium, critiquing the architectural and interior design choices of the Valmont ancestors, a young woman appears at the end of the hall. You’re clued in by the quickening claps of shoes against the wooden floorboards and manage to turn around just as a tall woman with wavy dark hair appears behind you, smiling so brightly that you swear her teeth are reflecting sunlight.

“Liss!” she cries, stepping towards you, careful to mind your heavily pregnant stomach as she reaches for a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it.” She’s still smiling, and you can’t help it, your lips curve up into a smile as well. Celise has always had that effect on you. And just like that, she’s linked arms with you, giving you a little support as you waddle with her into a room with large windows, more paintings, refined furnishings, and, thank god, sofas.

You let out an undignified sigh as you sink into the sofa cushions, and Celise, who’s been chatting this whole time, pauses mid-sentence to giggle. “Knew you’d like this,” she says, sitting beside you and patting the green cushion. “I still can’t believe you made it out here. He’s due any day now, right?”

Your ears flush and you place a hand over your stomach, which is at this point so large that you’ve wondered if your uterus could _actually_ stretch this much, and anxiously Googled it to make sure you were still in the clear. “Any day now,” you confirm, smiling sheepishly.

Celise reaches her hand over, interlocking her fingers with yours. “I can’t wait for you to give birth at my sister’s wedding.”

“God, Cel, don’t jinx it! If he’s anything like either of us, he’ll take that as a challenge.”

“Mmm,” she hums, leaning back against the sofa and crossing her legs. The light from the windows is bringing out the glints of red in her hair. “Are you excited to see Emma and Sal?” she asks, rubbing her thumb over your fingers.

“I’ll probably go into labor out of shock.”

Celise groans, lifting up her other hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I know that no one was expecting them to suddenly get married, but _please_ don’t actually give birth at my sister’s wedding.”

You can’t help yourself, and start to giggle. “Don’t ask me,” you smirk, patting your belly. “This little guy’s the one making the decision.”

She chuckles at that, and your cheeks warm a little. You’ve missed this.

“Ready to go see the happy couple? We’ll pass by a bathroom on our way if you need it.”

“You’re such a gentlewoman.”

“Oh hush, you.” Celise stands up from the sofa almost effortlessly, and you’re a little envious of her gracefulness. You, on the other hand, have the grace of a bowling ball, and gratefully accept Celise’s assistance when she offers to lend you a hand standing up.

“Are you going to be okay seeing Sal?” she asks, glancing down at your stomach as you walk arm-in-arm. “Really, none of us expected them to get married at all, not to mention so fast, especially not after--”

Your chest begins to tighten and a lump swells in the back of your throat. You do _not_ want to talk about this right now. “I know. Emma still invited me.”

Celise tenses up, and you can feel the slight trembles of her arm. “Yes, she did, but why did you _agree_? You’re about to give birth any second, this event’s a week long, and Sal’s the father of your baby.”

“Sal and I were never together, and he wasn’t with Emma when… when this happened,” you say, gesturing to your body. “Besides, I’m not going to miss my future sister-in-law’s wedding, Cel.”

Celise huffs, choking a little as she uses her free hand to wipe her eyes. “I don’t think any of us expected that _this_ is what would happen when all of us finished ‘taking breaks’ from each other nine months ago.”

“No,” you agree, leaning onto her arm a bit more. “But I’m glad we’re together again.”

“The bathroom’s here, if you need it.”

“Mmm.”

The rest of your walk through the house is mostly uneventful, with Celise pointing out different rooms and making little comments on the furniture, often Victorian or Edwardian antiques, as well as some of the architecture. The highlight is definitely her great-grandfather’s old taxidermy collection.

“Never knew bloodlust ran in your family,” you smirk, poking your head into a room filled with disembodied heads and stuffed full-sized figures. At the far end of the room, under a particularly magnificent-looking rhinoceros head, is a figure of a man dressed in khaki holding a bayoneted rifle and-- oh god. Please be wax. _Please_ be wax.

Celise sighs. “Grandad called it the ‘trophy room.’ Trust me, you don’t want to go in there. You just don’t. I’ve had nightmares about it for years.”

You grasp her hand a little tighter as she pulls you away, giving a small whimper in agreement. You already knew Celise’s family was a bit messed up, and a bit out of your league, but there’s nothing like the stuffed figure of someone’s great-grandfather in a trophy room to put your own family’s history of owning a bookstore into perspective.

“I feel like the protagonist of _Mean Girls_ right now,” you blurt out. “Like a heavily pregnant Lindsay Lohan who just moved from Africa.”

One of Celise’s eyebrows rise. “Does that make me your goth best friend, then? And… oh my god, Emma is _definitely_ Regina. But instead of introducing you to high school, I’m showing you around Emma’s wedding.” Celise smiles, pausing before a closed door. Your feet are getting sore again, and you need to sit down soon. “So, Liss, ready for the Plastics?”

“You need more black lipstick, and your clothes are too pastel. Also, it’s Wednesday and neither of us are wearing pink.”

Celise reaches down to the polished metal doorknob and twists it open. The room behind it is actually an entrance to the outdoor patio, with a lovely tier of stone flooring, staircases, and balcony railings that overlooks the yard and garden. There’s at least fifty people out here. No doubt this is where Emma and Sal are hosting the main event.

As you nearly start drooling from the smell of the salmon that the caterers are offering, Celise guides you over to a lovely wicker sofa with extra-plush cushions. “I’ll bring the happy couple over to you,” she says, giving your hand a quick squeeze. You nod, and Celise hurries off, but not before she flags down a caterer and points them in your general direction.

The caterer walks over to you, and offers you an appetizer. Your heart nearly melts. They have _crab cakes_ . Small, fluffy crab cakes, with a crunchy little exterior, finished off with a wonderful white sauce topping. The caterer is the nicest person you have ever met, and hands you a small plastic plate and a napkin. You take five crab cakes. The caterer gives you a knowing smile, and nods before heading off to grace the other guests with their delicious, delicious crab cakes. Completely forgetting to catch the caterer’s name so you can name your firstborn child after them, you pop one of the crab cakes into your mouth. They are _divine_. Your eyes sting and you’re nearly brought to tears when the moment is interrupted by someone sitting on the wicker sofa across from you.

It’s an older woman in a matching blue skirt and suit jacket, holding a glass of white wine. Her haircut looks like it costs over two hundred dollars, she has a fresh manicure, and her wedding rings are probably worth more than your entire apartment. She looks like Hillary Clinton. Your eyes narrow as your raise another crab cake to your lips. Hillary Clinton-lookalike be damned, you’re not going to relinquish these crab cakes for any demands of social etiquette.

“Oh my!” The woman exclaims, feigning surprise. “Are you Celise’s friend Elissa? I almost didn’t recognize you. I’m Celise and Emma’s mother.” She smiles at you, her posture impeccable. You freeze mid-chew, quickly swallowing the rest of your crab cake. _Hashem yishmor_ , you _really_ didn’t want to run into this woman without Celise here.

Nearly dropping your crab cakes, you dab your mouth with a napkin and school your features into what’s hopefully a pleasant expression. “Ah, Mrs. Valmont. How lovely to see you again.”

Her smile looks like it’s been hacked off the wall of a cathedral. “Please, call me Margaret.” Your pleasant expression becomes strained as she takes a relaxed sip of her wine. That little pain in your back is starting to act up again. “My dear, I didn’t realize that you were present at the festivities. Or that you were able to eat shellfish. It has been some time.”

“Oh, well, yes, it has. I’ve been very busy, uh, with the bookstore. And being pregnant. Being very, very pregnant” you stammer, face flushing as you have difficulty making eye contact. That dig about the shellfish was completely unnecessary.

Margaret’s voice cuts through you like a knife. “Yes, I noticed that. So you’re in a relationship then.”

You swallow, wishing that Celise were here, that this could just be over. Margaret has the tact of that taxidermied rhinoceros back in the trophy room, and you know it’s because she doesn’t care. “I am.”

“How wonderful. He must be very pleased.”

You brace yourself, inhaling sharply and clutching the little plastic plate with your precious crab cakes. “She is, certainly. Have you tried the crab cakes?”

Before Margaret has a chance to crush the stem of her wine glass with her bare hands, Celise arrives with Emma and Sal in tow. “Mother, I see you’ve run into Liss,” she says sweetly. Her mask is better than yours, but the tightness in her face gives her smile away.

Emma claps her hands together in excitement. She’s wearing pink, and her hair is pulled back in a ponytail and plaited. “Oh Liss, I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Emma,” you smile weakly. “Sal,” your smile grows even weaker. “So good to see you. Congratulations.”

Emma doesn't bat an eye at your pained response. On the other hand, you think that some of Sal’s blood has drained from his face. The man’s wringing his hands nervously, his eyes flicking back and forth between you and his soon-to-be mother-in-law. You don’t blame him. Margaret has always been a nightmare, and she’s always had a little extra spite reserved for you. No doubt he’s wondering whether or not there will be shouting before the entrées are served. Your internal bet is ten dollars that she drops her champagne, possibly on you. The bet doesn’t really matter. Either way you lose. You’d still like to be able to afford the Tuesday night two dollar margaritas at that bar you like, though. With your luck the baby will be born by the time you get back to New York.

“Congratulations to you too,” Emma beams, nodding at your belly as she hugs Sal’s arm tightly. “You must be very excited.”

You pat your stomach. “Any day now.”

“Evidently,” Margaret sniffs. You think you hear the stem of her wine glass crack. Hopefully anything she spills will fall on her clothes, and not be flung at you.

Celise jumps in instantly. “Ah, Mother, Mrs. Benson’s just arrived, and asked to meet you. I believe she’s near the fountain.”

Margaret’s eyes narrow, but a degree of tension rolls away as she stands up, thanks Celise for the notice, and goes on her way. You let out an audible sigh of relief, and eat another of your crab cakes. Celise sits down next to you on the sofa, while Emma and Sal sit down across from you.

“You okay, Liss?” Celise asks, taking your hand and giving it a small squeeze.

“I think I know what Marie Antoinette felt like as they led her to the guillotine.”

Celise’s mouth twists into a smirk. “I always figured my mother would be a _member_ of the Ancien Régime. You’d probably be beheaded by sword.”

“Anne Boleyn, then,” you giggle. It’s like you two are back in college.

“Queen of England? I could see it.”

A small sigh drifts over from the other side of the wicker coffee table. “It’s good to see you two together again,” Emma says, leaning on Sal.

Sal, for his part, finally speaks up. “I’m not sure if we’re the ones getting married, or you are.”

Both you and Celise blush, and Emma laughs as the two of you turn into human tomatoes. The only thing you’re missing is leaves. Wait, you’re wearing green. Great, you’re officially a human tomato.

“I’m sorry for leaving you with Mother,” Celise says, her cheeks still pink. “She’s still… well, you know how she is.”

“Ugh, do we ever,” Sal groans, leaning back against his sofa. “I still remember her nearly throwing you out of the house when she first figured out.”

“Oh, I remember that,” Emma chimes in, leaning forwards. “Somehow a whole roast turkey ended up in the jacuzzi.”

You also remember that incident, and you remember _exactly_ how that turkey ended up in the jacuzzi. It involved mistletoe, a dip before dinner, Margaret’s experience playing softball, and mentioning that your family has never had a Christmas tree. Something tells you that it’s better to not mention it.

Sal snorts and runs a hand through his hair. “I’d almost forgotten that.”

A gap of silence begins, but the sense of familiarity between you all keeps any awkwardness away.

You sigh. There’s really no way around any of this, and might as well bite the bullet. Before you can open your mouth, Emma beats you to it.

“There isn’t really any good way to go about this, Liss,” she says, reaching out to hold Sal’s hand. “I know about you and Sal, and your baby.” After a brief pause, she continues. Celise gives your hand another quick squeeze for comfort. “I know that you and Sal decided that you’ll have primary custody, and I’d still love to be a part of your child’s life. And I want you to know that what happened… well, it’s strange. But it’s also okay. I’m so happy for you and my sister, you’re going to be great moms, and I’m really, really happy you’re here for the wedding. We’ve all been best friends for years, and I’m so excited we’re going to be family too.”

Nodding your head, you place your free hand around your stomach, and Celise shifts to put her arm around your shoulders. The baby kicks against your fingertips.

“I feel the same way,” you reply, smiling. “And I’m so glad you and Sal are going to be with us.”

“Mom might be a piece of work,” Celise jumps in, and the rest of you laugh. “But I agree. I can’t wait for when we all do this. Together.” You lean on her, resting your head on her shoulder. There’s still a lot of unknowns, but for the time being, everything is falling into place. Emma and Sal stand up, give you hugs, and continue on to talk with the other guests.

“So,” Celise says, reaching her hand up to run her fingers in your hair, gently twisting a few of your curls. “Feeling okay?”

“Better,” you sigh in relief. “So much better.”

“Auntie Emma. I think she’ll like him.”

“Dote on him, more like. Spoil him rotten.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“It’ll be good. I think this might actually work out.”

Celise hums in agreement, and kisses you on the cheek. “I think so too. And now, I think we can officially enjoy the wedding.”

You turn your head and give her a quick kiss. “That sounds just perfect.”


End file.
